


dressed up in you

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Director Daisy Johnson, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Genderplay, Halloween Costumes, POV Alternating, Role Reversal, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 13:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy and Coulson take Halloween costumes a little too seriously this year.





	dressed up in you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



“Nice shades,” Phil comments. “Agent Coulson?”

“Hey, you started this,” Daisy says, pointing at his costume.

It’s “Come Dressed As Your Hero” theme for the Halloween party and Coulson had chosen to dress as… well, as Quake.

Daisy had retaliated (it stings a bit, that she thought he was making fun of her) by dressing up as him, or as “agent Coulson” as she puts it. Very cheap and non-descript party costume. A suit and sunglasses.

“Nice wig,” she comments.

And it looks expensive too. It’s obvious Phil is not going for some sort of comedic effect - not that he would ever mock her like that, or that he would use drag so insensitively - but that a lot of work has gone into the costume. He looks… he looks good. He makes a pretty attractive Quake. Nobody seems bothered by it, either; the base is crowded, it’s a big party, interagency goodwill and all, some Inhuman assets invited, some alien assets even, but mostly a party for SHIELD, for them. There’s a mix of costumes too. They go from the bland - Einstein, Madame Curie (come on, Jemma), Captain America - to the surprising - Agent Piper as Edgar Allan Poe, moustache an all, because apparently she’s a big fan. Daisy had debated who to come as until she discovered Phil’s plan and had to retaliate, of course.

He can’t tell if she is annoyed or embarrassed, either way it’s not good. He wanted to do something nice for her, show how much she admires her. 

“The utility belt is pretty spot on,” Daisy praises his costume.

“I had to improvise, the one that came with the costume wasn’t accurate,” he explains, like a total dork. It makes him remember how obsessive he got over Halloween costumes when he was a kid, how many hours he and his mom spent getting every detail right, be it the couple of times he decided to dress up as Steve Rogers (clichéd, _he knows_ , but he was ten) or that year he went to a friend’s party dressed as half Sid Vicious half Nancy Spungen (he thought it was witty at the time, he was seventeen).

Daisy takes a sip of her drink.

“You didn’t have to work so hard,” she says.

He comes closer, playing with the cord of her lanyard.

“So this is where _mine_ had gone.”

“For realism,” Daisy replies. “After all I couldn’t go to a shop and ask for an Agent Coulson costume.”

She blames Billy. It all started the day he showed them a news item about the Quake costume becoming a bestseller this Halloween, after Daisy had very publicly stopped an alien-plant invasion from pulling some Day of the Triffids nonsense on them. Daisy was mortified. She still can’t get used to this part of the job. It’s been three years since Quake’s first public appearance, two since she became Director of SHIELD, and one and a half since she and Coulson started dating, lowkey at first, going public in a few months. But a costume children can buy from the stores? As if she were… as if she were _something_? That’s too much. Phil had been amused - almost delighted - with the idea when he found out, but later he had told her not to let it overwhelm her, that she was good at the job and that was what mattered, she didn’t have to indulge the media if she didn’t want to.

He grabs Daisy by the arm, gently, leading her to a private corner of the lab, where they are a bit away from the rest of the guests.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ll go back and change if it really bothers you, I didn’t mean…”

Daisy shakes her head.

“That’s the thing, it doesn’t bother me… I kinda like it.”

“I thought you were-”

“I was embarrassed,” she cuts him off. “But I like the idea of being someone’s hero.”

He smiles. How absurd she can be.

“Daisy, you’re the hero of thousands of people.”

“Yeah, but I like the idea of being yours.”

“Well, you’ve been for a while now, in case you haven’t noticed…”

He pulls her by the tie and kisses her.

“You’re my hero, too…” she confesses, kissing back, dangerously treading the wow-too-corny territory. She doesn’t care.

“You look good in a suit.”

She raises an eyebrow and after waiting the polite half hour to abandon the party they head back to Daisy’s bunk.

Phil closes the door behind them and kisses her against it. It’s weird to be kissing someone who is dressed as you, Daisy thinks, running her hands over his forearms, the fake arm pieces made of foam, probably, light where her own real field suit weights a ton.

He touches the tips of his fake hair. “Do you want me to take it off?” he asks.

“No,” Daisy says, threading her fingers through it. She meant what she said, it’s a nice wig. She pulls at it gently, bringing Phil to her mouth again.

She kisses him all the way to her bed, resting her hands on Coulson’s hips, then hooking her fingers possessively around the belt.

She pushes him to the mattress, straddling him immediately and holding him down by the wrists. It gives her a thrill, looking down at that costume, this _other_ Quake, dominated, trapped. A safe way of letting herself give up control - she knows she can’t, not really, ever, but she’s fascinated looking at Phil, the long hair cut just like hers, the suit, the gauntlets.

“Let me help you out of these,” she says, recalling all the times Phil has slipped hers off her arms, after a mission, when she is too tired or hurt, or when they want to make a ritual of it, when they slowly undress in front of the other to turn them on.

Coulson helps her out of her jacket, she obviously put some effort in the costume too - it’s a men’s jacket, but a fitting size, Daisy’s broad shoulders looking attractive pressing against the fabric of the tight white shirt.

“Nice knot,” he says, running his fingers over her tie, appreciatively. “Where did you learn?”

“I’m full of surprises,” she says and god that smirk does things to him.

He starts undoing her tie. Daisy swallows, aroused by the mirror image of the dozen times she’s done this to Phil, pull his tie apart, undo him like this.

“No, don’t take it off,” he pleads. “I just wanted to loosen it.”

Daisy nods, wedging her way between his legs, using one hand for balance, the other to tug at the zip of the Quake costume.

Does she feel as excited when he pulls down her zip? Coulson wonders, his mouth going dry as she exposes his chest, slides her hand under the cheap pastlic of the Halloween costume and caresses his left nipple. Does she feel this aroused when he does something similar to her? He imagines himself doing this to Daisy, or remembers, or a mix of both, and then he _is Daisy_ trapped under the weight of her lover while he undoes her superhero suit. It’s… a bit confusing. And a lot of fun.

“You like this, uh?” she teases, trying to imitate Phil when he does this to her. Oh he’s a tease all right, much much more than her, so this is her chance. Because now she’s him, she can tease all she wants - make Phil suffer with desire like he usually does to her.

“Yeah.”

He feels his cock getting hard, pressing against the fabric of the Quake suit. Him as Daisy getting an erection. He bites down on his bottom lip. It’s too delicious. He is Daisy and _her cock_ is hard because Phil Coulson is touching her. His head feels light just to think about it. Aggressively Daisy presses one leg between Coulson’s. He moans and she presses on, finding the perfect spot just before it becomes painful. 

“You want me to fuck you like this,” Daisy asks.

Holy shit, she thinks, this is kind of hot.

Coulson’s impressed - she likes dirty talk but she normally tries to hide it under a veneer of self-deprecation. Coulson prefers it the old-fashioned way, without postmodern irony. 

“Yeah,” Phil replies, his cheeks all cute and red. “Fuck me, Daisy.”

She shakes her head, rolling her hips.

“I’m not Daisy tonight,” she tells him.”I’m Phil.”

Coulson swallows. Is she…? He didn’t imagine dressing up as her would turn out like this, he just wanted to show Daisy she was his hero. This is… this is better than any fantasy.

“F-fuck me, Phil,” he says.

She smiles, dropping her mouth close to his.

“Yes, Daisy,” she whispers.

Saying that making her see white for a moment, lost in arousal, aching between her legs, her cunt but also the imaginary cock she’s pretending he’s fucking Phil with. It makes her feel like a teenager, experimenting, doing silly crap like this; dressing up as each other, pretending to be each other, instead of having sex like adults. It’s ridiculous - she’s so happy to be ridiculous with someone like Phil and suddenly she’s overwhelmed by how freaking much she loves him. Does he knows? She needs to show him.

She thrusts her hips against his, like Coulson does when they have sex. Well, this is having sex, he corrects himself in time. It feels just as good as, so it must be. Daisy brings her body over his, kissing him again as she fucks him over the Quake costume. She wraps her hands around his legs and brings them higher, until Coulson gets the idea and wraps them around her waist. He lifts his hands, grabbing Daisy by the back of the neck. It’s tempting to unravel the tight ponytail, but it’s more tempting to keep the illusion intact. He leaves her hair alon, dropping his hands to her back, down her back, to her ass, cupping it like Daisy does with his ass - he’s always flattered that, at his age, someone pays that much attention to it, to be honest - grabbing at it hard, edging Daisy on.

“Faster,” he says. 

Daisy finds a better angle, pressing the length of her thigh against Phil’s groin.

He slips his hand under her pants, the waistband of her underwear, reaching down for the feeling of her bare ass, and finding her so wet, just from this, this imitation that’s just as real as anything else, once you peel all these puritanical bullshit notions of what’s real sex. 

Something else is different, too, he notices, something about the fabric of-

“I’m wearing your underwear,” Daisy says.

“Good. Cause I’m wearing yours,” he says. Daisy gives him a quizzical look, eyebrow an all. “I strive for realism.”

She likes the idea. Phil is naturally more adventurous in bed than she is, but she is starting to realize how hot this kind of stuff can be. Not really a difference in experience - it’s not like Phil has had that many relationships serious enough to play around like this - but a difference in outlook. That’s what a Catholic education will do to you, Daisy often jokes.

She’s not feeling very much of a Catholic girl right now, she thinks, absolutely delighted at the idea. She reaches between their bodies, flattening the palm of her hand against the length of his cock. She searches for the tip under the plastic-feeling fabric of the ridiculous store suit. She thinks, not about how Phil likes to be touched, but about how _she_ likes to be touched, about how he likes to tease her with his hands.

Coulson lets out a noiseless whimper. “Oh fuck, Dai- Phil,fuck, do it again.”

She does, holding the tip of his cock between two fingers, under his clothes. Between that and the pressure of her knee against his balls he’s a goner soon, spilling himself inside the Quake suit.

Daisy swallows his last moans, kissing him as he shakes a bit, the dark hair of her wig all over his face. She finishes herself off more quietly, bringing Phil’s fingers to the crotch of her trousers. He strokes her distractedly, until he recovers a little and undoes her belt, sinking his fingers into her. She’s so turned on she comes almost immediately, looking down, seeing Phil under her body, dressed as he is, jerking her off.

She rolls off him, fitting herself under Coulson’s shoulder. He likes the visual of it, Daisy-as-Agent-Coulson snuggled against him-as-Quake, clinging on to his chest and pulling him towards her.

“I guess I can’t return the costume to the shop now,” Phil tells her, panting. She snorts. _As if_. As if he would ever return a Quake costume. As if this hadn’t been his plan all along - with or without her, Daisy fantasizes. She _fantasizes_. She closes her eyes and imagines Phil touching himself, alone, through the fabric of this cheap imitation of her field suit. He has made her into some kind of sex maniac, Daisy decides, he’s such a bad influence.

“What are you thinking?” Phil asks. His voice is very sweet and gentle and her room smells like him and suddenly she can imagine herself doing this - the dirty bits, _of course_ , but the other bits too, the planning ops together, and the sharing breakfast after Daisy’s training routine, and the patching each other up after everything goes wrong, and the boring diplomatic missions, and the late nights falling asleep on top of each other on top of top secret files, and the goodnight kisses and the good morning kisses, and the way Phil looks at her now - for a long, long time.

He worries, because she keeps quiet for a long time, face all serious, frowning at herself like she is trying to make a decision. She runs her hand over his chest and shoulders, like she is appreciating the details of the costume (or pondering its inaccuracies). Then suddenly her face gets heated up, dark pink-ish, her expression bashful.

“Marry me, Quake,” she says, quoting a popular sign among the audiences whenever Daisy appears in public.

She holds her breath - holy crap Daisy, what are you doing? - until Phil smiles and answers.

“Yes, Agent Coulson,” he says. “I will.”


End file.
